I Can't Live Without Books

I Can't Live Without Books ~ Thomas Jefferson 

We are in the countdown phase to permanently moving to Florida. I’ve been packing and purging.

We’ve had a few garage sales to get rid of the clutter I’ve managed to collect over the last 10 years living on Pomeroy Ave. I think Rich only has about 5 things he owns; he reminds me it’s all my stuff.

We have managed to amass thousands of books over the years together. We’re a few levels just below hoarders. Thankfully, we had a large space above the garage. The entire loft was a library. We both love books. Some people like shoes, purses, jewelry, sport equipment or tools. Rich and I love books. On our honeymoon we found the first of its kind discount bookstore. It was like going to Mecca. We had to buy luggage to cart home the books.

We knew we were meant for each other when we went to the book store for the first time. We walked in and smiled at each other and said, “See ya later.” I’d go off to one section of the book store and he’d go off to another. Occasionally we’d meet in the same aisle—each holding a stack of books in our hands. We were in our happy place. We could stay as long as we’d like without feeling bad.

After a few hours we’d meet near the comfy chairs or on the floor in a corner and weed through our stacks of books together. Sometimes he’d look at me and say, “Only one!” I’d laugh to myself and think, “okay, whatever you say”, then justify to him at the checkout line why I really needed this ‘other’ book on Ketogenics.

I’ve gone through more book genre stages than Rich. He typically buys History, Business, Religion, and occasionally Fiction books. I’ve gone through all those book phases too, and have filled bookshelves. However, I’m a non-fiction junky. Non-fiction is subjective and addictive. I’ve got books on Self-Help, Autobiographies, Diet and Nutrition, How-To, Travel, Music, Animals, Yoga and Meditation, and Scientific Resources—just to name a few. I’ve yet to find a book on how to stop your book obsession. 

I’m not a Nook or a Kindle or iPad person. In fact, my iPad sat on my nightstand for two years until I sold it at our recent garage sale for forty-dollars. I like the feeling of the appropriate weight of a book in my hands. I like turning real pages. I make notes and underline everything. However, sadly, I can’t say I’ve retained all the information.

My perfect day: under a tree, by the lake, on a hammock, with a book, eating pate, cheese and crackers, and drinking ice tea or wine out of an adult-sippy cup (depending on the time of day). 

There have been many despairing times I was drawn to the right book at the right time. Subconsciously, I needed encouragement or a smack upside the head. Thirsty for knowledge, I’d sop up the wisdom of others like a desperate dog trying to quench her thirst. I can’t count how many times books gave me motivation to get back on my path.   

  

It was a difficult decision to realize that we had to get rid of most of our books. I told Rich we could only take six bins each full of books; twelve bins total, no exceptions. That’s a lot of books to purge. I kept saying, “If we can check it out of the library, it has to go.”

I’d like to tell you that it was a spiritual experience to ‘lighten’ ones load. I kept waiting for the energetic shift as I let go of my attachments. The only good thing that came out of our purging was if we died, we saved our kids days of back-breaking work.

When my grandmother was being transitioned from her apartment to the Senior Health Center, she had to discard her books. It was one of the few times I saw my grandmother become undone. She’d hand me one book at a time, and look at me with earnestness, saying, “Kimmy, promise me you’ll read this book.” She was entrusting them to my care. They were the Classics, and her childhood memories.  After about the tenth book, without thinking I said, “Gram, I can’t promise you I’ll read all of these books.” She got up and walked over to her Day-Bed, laid down, and turned her back on me and started to cry. Today, I understood why it was so painful. Getting rid of my beloved books was a bibliophile’s Sophie’s Choice. It put me in a funk too.

We sold as many books as we could for a quarter each at the garage sale. Rich calculated over the years, we’ve spent about $40,000 in books. We had about half of that in random books up in the loft/library above the garage. We sold about $200 at the garage sale. Yeah, that was painful too. What we didn’t sell we packed up in large black garage bags and gave to Purple Heart Veterans Donations.

God was bracing me with this first wave of goodbyes. Next month will be the hardest: saying goodbye to our lifelong friends and family. Like my books, I want to take them all with me.

Getting Still

There is a buzzing in my head. My chest feels tight. 

 I have to get still. 

There is nothing to fix. 

I let life show up.

It presents itself in all it's glory.

Nature organizes my thoughts.

I'm reminded all is well. 

30 Years Ago My Life Changed

30 years ago, I was anxiously waiting for you to come into the world (my world). You were late. 10-days late. We were going to name you Eric Michael.  Nobody liked the name. So I asked everyone at the table to write down an Irish name.  All the names were put in a hat and I pulled out Kevin Robert. Your great-grandmother, G.G. Melley, chose that name. Kevin comes from the 6^th century Irish, patron saint, St. Caoimhin, from Dublin. It means: gentle, handsome, or beloved. I think it suited you for 30 years. 

I’ve told you before, but I’ll say it again to mark the occasion so it’s etched indelibly in your memory: you were the answer to my prayer. God knew I wanted to be a mom. When you arrived, you became my ‘Kevin from Heaven.’ I promised God I’d be a good mom. Even though He knew I was woefully under skilled to be a mom at 21-years old, He must have believed the intention of my heart.

What I didn’t know then but understand more now, is God selected YOU to be the one who would grow me up. You were my teacher. You were brought into my life to help me become more fully conscious. What does that mean? To be free to discover my true self; discover who I really was in this one and only life here on Earth. To be led into a million experiences that would show me my conditioned false self. You would be a guide of Creation to keep me sane, awake, aware, and engaged in all things that truly mattered in life: Love & Being.

The first few years were a walk in the park. I loved every time I had to wake up in the middle of the night with you. It was my favorite time. It felt like nobody in the world was awake but the two of us. I was in awe of the stillness of the night and the little soul I held in my arms. It was a timeless feeling; I’ve never forgotten what that felt like. I’d sing to you softly and hold you close until you fell asleep again. This little human mesmerized me with unlimited potential in my arms.  I was full of gratitude to God. I imagined that God was getting a kick out of watching me dig this whole new mom-experience too. 

Kev, you were so curious and watched my every move. You were also intuitive and knew when I was struggling, fully present, or preoccupied. You’d grab my face and make me look you in the eyes. Oh my goodness, those eyes! You spoke a dozen languages in that one glance. I knew what you were saying every time you looked at me like that. And then you'd smile.  

 You wanted my undivided attention. I didn’t always give it to you. As you got a little older, I’d distract you with cheerios, a toy, or TV. I didn’t realize until much later, that what I was struggling with wasn’t the piles of laundry or dishes that kept me busy. No, those things never bothered me. I was distracted by expectations, judgements, and comparisons (the three evils of my life). I had to be the perfect mom with the perfect son who reflected me well. Unknowingly, I welcomed ego and fear into our experience and it changed me; it changed us. (I'm still undoing it.) By living in the future (in my mind), worry and the heavy responsibility of being a parent overwhelmed me. I can’t get all those distracted moments back. 

I tell you this so when you’re a parent, one day you won’t fall into the trap of looking for others to validate you as a parent (or human-being). When you were first born, I was fully aware of each delightful, surreal parenting moment. Obsessing over what others thought of me took me off the natural path. 

You were patiently with me though. Being a good teacher, you kept trying to get my attention to come back to where life is to be fully lived. Sometimes I was able to play on your playground. Other times, I was hijacked by whatever life experience was happening. My emotions, fears, and expectations of the mind held me in prison. Being a parent will do a number on you if you are not grounded in the present moment or even moderately mature (Sorry about the not being mature part. As you grew up, so did I.) 

I can’t believe it’s been 30 years since you were born. A lot can happen in 30 years. I know by now you’ve gotten a good taste of both the woes and the wonders of life. Let me speak about the woes. 

  

We all have issues. Most, if not all our issues come from a long line of conditioned thoughts, limited beliefs and experiences we learned. Let me say that again. Yes, most, if not all our issues are learned conditioned thought!!!! (You will have to consciously undo what’s been passed on to you.) Nobody’s really to blame; it’s what we learned from one generation to another (especially if our families are unconscious and living out of their false self too). 

Multiply that by all the people you work with and those whom you're in relationship with. They too have their woes (and are probably unconscious to one degree or another). And all our woes are colored by our perceptions of what we THINK should be happening now. We RESIST every experience small or large and demand that it bend to our will. We catastrophize everything—mostly small dumb things. We have no idea how to embrace woes and worries. Life is reflecting back to us truth about ourselves; we don't want to face it. We never question our frantic, inner dialogue, or unhappiness. It’s always other people’s fault. We’ve been conditioned to blame. Everybody does it.

We miss out on the brilliant opportunity to lean-in and learn to accept what IS reality (good, bad, or indifferent) and love it. We don’t have to be a 50-year old person living in a perpetual 3-year old tantrum psyche. We’ve got it all wrong when it comes to woes. We demand that life rise up to meet us. No, it’s the other way around. We are to rise up and meet life where and when it presents itself to us. Life is trying to get our attention; trying to teach us. That’s when life gets real. No more games. No more false self. No more distractions. No more woeful thinking when life is, well, woeful. Life is life (as my son once told me). 

The Irish saying: ‘There are only two things to worry about: either you are well or you are sick. If you are well, then there is nothing to worry about; but if you are sick there are two things for you to worry about; either you get well, then there is nothing to worry about, or you die. If you die, then there are two things to worry about; either you go up or down. If you go up then there is nothing to worry about. But if you go down, you will be so busy shaking hands with old friends you won’t have time to worry.’ 

  

Unless we are dying, nothing is ever that bad. And if we are dying, that’s not all bad either; it’s onto the next adventure. To those times I lived in Woeful-land, I’m sorry you had to be confused by my sadness and my resistance to problems. I wish I had done a better job of always having my sh#% together. That said, over time (a long time) you inspired me to stay away from negative people and surround myself with people who lifted me up. Everything I ever did (deep down) to get myself on track, was because of being your mom. I seriously wanted to be a positive mom who was so obnoxiously bright, the sun would be jealous of my light. 

And now to the wonders of life: We all have an inner light. It takes an undistracted mind to see it and feel it and live it. I see the image of God in you and others more than ever. We come into the world with a glorious bright love-light. Yet spend the rest of our life putting it out with woes and worries. I’ve learned that is an unnecessary way to live. 

Since you’ve left home and moved on in your life, I’ve had lots of time to figure out where I missed the mark (not for the purposes of living in the past or putting myself down, but for the purposes of learning) so I could be awake to the wonder happening NOW. I’m not as fearful or preoccupied with parenting responsibilities, I’m able to BE STILL & KNOW.

It took some time and some practice (through meditation, movement, mindful living, and prayer) but I've got it down. Learning how to be present and live in the moment has changed EVERYTHING! I don’t need to be as entertained by others. Just like when you were a little boy, and I could sit an watch you for hours, I’ve gotten back to that with Life: I could sit and watch Life for hours. The love for MORE sacred experiences (besides even you) has expanded. I never thought there would be room for more love than I had for you, but it happened. Just when I thought I had lived the best years of my life being your mom, Life gave me more surprises and adventures. 

I thought I was the one who had to love Life (embrace it or not embrace it depending on what was happening). Not so, Life has loved me all along. I’m just now able to be aware of this remarkable dance that Life invited me to do with it. If you thought being a parent was fun, just wait--it gets even better. The best is yet to come!

The last 30 years have been like school: reports, and late-night homework, tests, fire drills, and finally graduations. That's what I thought it was supposed to be. I wish I had lived the last 30 years like it was recess: PLAYED more, laughed more, shared more, and connected more with others. 

Whether you become a parent or not, I encourage you to let Life be your teacher. Life won’t test you. You’ll test yourself. You’ll know when you’re on the right path and when you’re on the wrong path; intuitively we know it. Life will just keep presenting messages to show you if you’re living out of fear or out of wonder. We need good mentors to help us grow up and encourage us on the right path. Life is a kind and gracious teacher. If you have kids someday, they will be your teachers too.  

I can’t thank you enough for being my Kevin from Heaven; for changing my life for the better. I’ve delighted in you for 30 years (Okay, sometimes I was a little more than miffed with you!) ;-) And in those moments, you are still teaching me about myself to this day! Everything is useful and good. 

It’s your golden birthday: 30 years on the 30^th.  Happy Birthday, Kevin. I love you! I wish you peace, happiness, awareness, and love the next 30 years.  

~ Forever, Mom

MAD MEN

(SPOILER ALERT: if you’ve NOT watched the Series Finale of Mad Men, don’t read on.)

After eight years, Mad Men ended. I was relieved and sad when it was over. Surprisingly, I was satisfied with the ending. I did not expect that.

Like all good series (Lost, 24, Son’s of Anarchy, Downton Abbey), when I first started watching it, I spent two days straight binge-watching in my pajamas, living on 4 hours of sleep, just to get caught up. I’m not the only one who has binge watched a television series; it’s what we do now that we have Netflix and DVR’s. It’s a wonderful thing unless you have to be up at 6am the next morning to teach an early morning yoga class.

For 8-years (actually it was 6-years because I had to catch up on two years) Mad Men drove me crazy. I disliked every character at this New York Manhattan advertising agency. They were all pretty sleazy, selfish characters. The men were chauvinists and immoral. The women were sexualized (giving their power away and having it taken away just because they were women).

I know, I know, it was the 60’s. Part of what I enjoyed was the authentic ways they depicted that era. It was masterful how each glass of scotch, wool coat or polyester cocktail dress, or that way of relating in the 60’s, was exactly as it should have been: the mothers were chain-smoking, self-absorbed, unhappy women in unhappy marriages who felt slighted. As a result, their disappointment spilled over to their children who were hungry for attention and acceptance. Fathers were absent too. The J.O.B. was their primary function or duty; along with getting their immediate gratification needs met. When they were home from work, fathers looked lost around their family and disconnected with their wives’ needs and children’s emotional needs. 

Many children of the 60’s could identify with angry Sally who was ‘on to her parents’ hypocrisy.  She was powerless until she found her voice. Then look out. Sally’s bratty, exhorting outbursts seem warranted given her two vain parents. She saw it all and didn't know how to reconcile her disconnect from her parents choices. 

I kept watching Mad Men because I wanted to see if the main character, womanizing Don Draper, had any redeeming value. I don’t care how good-looking he seemed to everyone else, he was a pathetic character to me (very unattractive traits). Week after week, year after year, I told myself that Don was a loser who deserved any bad thing that came his way.

He may have been the most brilliant New York Ad Head but he had no emotional IQ: Self-Awareness or Self-Management. He was driven by repressed fear and ego (his daughter saw that in him). In fact, everyone saw that in him. I think Don knew that about himself too, but didn’t know HOW to change those weaknesses in his character. He was so busy drinking or sleeping around and controlling his outer circumstances, it left no time for inner contemplation. For 8-years, Don never stopped running from himself. 

It wasn’t until the last few episodes did writer, Matthew Weiner, force Don, lonely and without, to face himself: His company Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce had a hostile takeover. Don would have to answer to someone else. The worst thing about the 60’s was conformity. Don would have to take orders from Jim Hobart and imitate MaCann. That was unthinkable. But what choice did he have? 

I think the worst part for the enigmatic Don was looking in the mirror through his daughter’s eyes. She saw the two failed marriages and a LONG string of empty affairs and emotional abandonment. That was all he offered her and she would have none of it. When he realized what she was projecting back to him, it was too late. He had lost her respect and affection.

In the second to last episode, Don walks out of McCann in the middle of a meeting. Nobody is really concerned about him except Peggy Olson (his protégé). Defeated, Don drives off (seemingly) into the sunset. 

After a string of empty experiences en-route to California, Don's alone, beat up, avoiding his past (again). A call with Sally gives him terrible news; his ex-wife, Betty, has lung cancer and 6-months left to live. He's devastated and wants to come home. Sally tells him 'don't'. Blunt Sally tells her father where her brothers need to live after her mother dies (and it’s not with Don). She knows he's not the kind of father who can offer her brothers stability; he knows it too. Don gets drunk (again). 

Eventually, he ends up at a hippie version of an California ashram/self-help retreat. Thinking he’s there to help someone else, he eventually comes to the end of himself. He can’t run away (from this ashram, there is no car and it’s too far to walk). Don’s hit rock bottom in previous seasons; he’s had his ego smacked upside the head many times. However, he seemed impervious to any real, lasting transformation. 

The last two episodes of Mad Men took the viewers (and Don) for a ride in the passenger seat.

Discouraged and overcome with emotion, Don finds a pay phone at the retreat center and makes a collect-call  to Peggy to say ‘goodbye’. She’s the only person he has left. It’s hard to know if by ‘goodbye’ he was going to kill himself, or say goodbye because he left New York without talking to anyone. But he seems too emotional for a ‘Hey, I forgot to tell you goodbye when I left MaCann so suddenly.”

Because the opening credits of Mad Men, which had a black silhouette of Don Draper falling out of a Manhattan skyscraper, I always thought Don was going to kill himself at the end of the series. It would have seemed fitting. Maybe what it actually implied was a fall from grace, a fall from the top, a death to self? 

While talking on the pay phone to Peggy, she can tell something is wrong with Don. She can hear him despairing. She tells him, “Don’t you want to work on Coke?" (The coveted Manhattan ad account.) She begs, "Don, come home.” Don confesses his major sins to ‘safe’ Peggy who has always forgiven him for being an asshole. Then he hangs up.

In the next scene, he’s invited by a random woman to go into a ‘share your feelings’ therapy session. He doesn’t go to the session for himself. He goes because the woman said she ‘didn’t want to go into the group alone’ (and probably because if she had a little makeup on and hiked her long skirt up, she would look halfway acceptable to have sex with later).

Sitting in the group, the woman, looked like she was trying to ‘will’ Don to go sit in the ‘share chair’. Everyone knows what Don needs to do except Don. Don hesitates to go sit in the chair. Instead he looks irritated by others and goes inward and then stares ahead unresponsive (classic passive aggressive move because it's not about him).

The man in the ‘share chair’ begins to share his pain around feeling alone in the midst of being surrounded by others his whole life. Don looks up and listens; he seems to be snapped out of a catatonic state towards being self-destructive. Don is deeply moved by this man’s vulnerability.  The ad-man who had it all, who kept his well-dressed emotions in check in front of people, walks over to the crying man and then kneels down. He grabs the depressed man and hugs him tightly. Together they wept (no, sobbed). 

In that moment I’m wondering why I’m so uncomfortable with Don Draper crying? 'Holy conditioning Batman', I’m a child of the 60’s and 70’s where we don’t see grown men cry. It’s perceived as weakness. I hate lascivious Don Draper. Soft hearted Don Draper makes me uneasy. Please stop crying Don! 

But after a few more moments of sobs, I’m glad Don finally found empathy and emotional IQ. I’m glad he questioned his thoughts. He faced his (ego-inner demons) and found inner redemption. Don’s not so self-absorbed. He’s listening and he can identify. He's not being distant and cold. He’s not telling someone his troubles. He’s not blaming others. He’s not expecting anyone to meet his need for instant gratification. He’s sympathizing versus trying to fix a situation that makes him uncomfortable. He entered into another’s pain. He’s un-burden his soul. He’s actually exhibiting true self-awareness and not running. He’s showing social awareness by being ‘other-centered’. Finally!!!! I waited 6-years for that moment!

In the last scene, Don’s outside on the CA retreat center lawn, eyes closed, sitting cross-legged uttering ‘OM’ a few times. (Since I teach yoga and meditation, this was kinda funny to me.) A soft smile emerges on Don’s face. He’s gotten quiet and still. He’s not running anymore from anyone (mostly himself). He’s gone inward and looked at his thoughts and allowed his experiences (both good and bad) to teach and transform him. It looks like Don has found peace. 

The Mad Man Series Finale ends with the iconic 1971 Coca-Cola ad “I’d like to buy the world a home and furnish it with love……I’d like teach the world to sing, in perfect harmony.” Oh my gosh, hippies. My people. (Kim smiling!) Me too, I'd like to 'buy the world a home and furnish it with love.' That's all I've ever wanted. It's all Don ever wanted (but didn't know how to created it.) I think it’s implied, ‘It’s the Real thing’ that Don went home and made the greatest commercial of all time.